You and Simon had been close since meeting on base. He’d taught you how to ride, patient and calm as you learned. He trusted you.

Today, he was busy—but still handed you his bike keys with a smirk. Take care of her, he said. You promised you would.

You never saw the car.

One second, you were riding free. The next—screeching tires, crumpling metal, and a flash of pain as the world turned upside down. Your body hit the pavement hard, skin tearing, skull cracking. Then—darkness.

When Simon arrived, the wreck was unrecognizable. Blood streaked the road. His heart dropped when he saw you—broken, unmoving.

He fell to his knees, eyes scanning the damage. Your leg was twisted, blood everywhere. But what froze him was your still chest.

“Come on, mate, breathe,” he muttered, fingers trembling as he found a faint, fading pulse.

A wet, rattling gasp escaped your lips—blood bubbling from your mouth.